Page 26 of sWitch

With that devastating smile, she clicked my helmet closed under my chin. “I’ll be awaiting youronline nowso I know you’ve gotten home safe.”

“Stalker,” I breathed. My lips parted, and her gaze dropped. I wanted a kiss; God, I wanted a kiss so badly.

“Friends?” she asked, and I hated the way it sounded.

All I could do was nod. “Friends.”

Her jaw tensed again, and she let out a breath. My heart sank with disappointment as her lip rings glinted under the pale light of the mall’s parking deck. She took a step back, and it was as if the magnetic pull broke with the distance. No goodbye kiss, even though we’d just done so much more. Each time we saw each other or interacted the desire was more and more. We were like a forest fire irresponsibly set ablaze and burning down more space with each passing moment. Someone was bound to get hurt, and that person was destined to be me. It was always me who got my heart broken—by friends, by lovers, by folks who played at both. Those worries would consume me later…but in that moment, I didn’t care. I fired up my moped, and my throattightened, realizing this brief wonderland of mall rats was just a fantasy. A wonderful, magical, fantasy. Remy likely had no idea how much tonight meant to me.

Black cat, golden retriever, or simply Remy Monroe?

I was tumbling down her rabbit hole either way.

LEVEL 9

PLAYER TWO: FAUNA

With butterysoft pretzel stained to my tongue and slick, warm post-orgasm pressed between my thighs, I skipped on logging hours in V for Valin that night. The phantom caress of Remy’s piercings still echoed down my sensitive center, and I knew if I tried to game, I’d only lose and set myself back precious progress.

Guilt gnawed at me for missing a night—for what could happen if I didn’t stay diligent. What would Remy think if she knew? I couldn’t let anyone find out.

The next morning, I brought Turnip downstairs to the shelter front desk with me. My curious kitten pawed at a pen cap, making noise and meowing so loud, I didn’t even hear the ding of the bell as the front door opened. A familiar pair of cat ear headphones landed on the front desk, and my heart leapt into my throat.

Remy rested their tattooed elbows against the counter and rubbed Turnip’s ear. “I know no outfit of yours is complete without these.”

I swallowed my surprise and begged my racing heart to steady. Remy’s hair was brushed back and wet, and she smelled of pine and lavender body wash. Her tattoos were oiled and her crop top clung to her chest, highlighting her six-pack abs and low slung grey sweatpants. My knees pressed together automatically.

“Thanks for looking out for my wardrobe needs,” I sputtered out. “This is Turnip. Turnip the cat.” The last clarification wasn’t necessary—of course he was a cat—but I was nervous and being an idiot.

Remy quirked a smile and bit at the silver hoops on her lower lip.I’d like to bite at the silver hoops on her lower lip…

“Why’d you name a fur ball Turnip?”

I shrugged. “Because he justturned upone day, and I decided to keep him.”

Remy’s chuckle was warm, and their eyes glimmered with heat as she surveyed me while passively petting the purring kitten. “Do you like working here?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I live upstairs too. Free rent and animals, what could be better?”

“Can I see your place?” Remy scooped Turnip up and placed him on her shoulder.

I giggled. “Sure, follow me.”

In all her stunning, inked, and alternative and masculine glory, she didn’t balk or sneer at my eclectic pink paradise. Instead, she roamed thoughtfully, curiously assessing the books on my tiny white shelf, picking up my crocheted mushroom collection, thumbing through my gaming figurines, and smelling my candles. I nervously chattered about my abandoned crocheting faze, my failed candle crafting business, and my love of thrifted silver spoons.

Where every other person I’d ever brought upstairs either rolled their eyes or playfully teased me about my space—Remydidn’t. Remy cradled my kitten, mindfully grinned down at my trail of forgotten hobbies, and asked meaningful questions of my collections. Even my bed full of stuffed animals couldn’t elicit a joke from the otherwise sarcastic person before me.

It made me feel warm inside. It made me feel seen and accepted. Remy didn’t realize that the more and more I got to know her, the more it seemed she fit into my broken parts. Those were probably thoughts I shouldn’t be having about my boyfriend’s sister. I swallowed down the emotions as Remy took a seat at my gaming chair across from my bed and took in my modest computer set up. “The gummy bear keyboard is a nice touch.” She smiled. “Did you build this yourself?”

Surprise fluttered through me as I perched on the edge of my stuffy-covered mattress. “Yes, I did. How did you even know that?”

Remy shrugged as Turnip curled up in her lap for a nap. “I’m perceptive.”

The tension between us intensified as we locked stares. My pulse quickened as Remy licked her lips, affording me a small glance at the tongue barbell I already missed. We were in my room, I was on my bed, we were alone?—

The door beeped downstairs. “Hello?” someone called.

Shoot.

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